
Another poem sparked by my random flashbacks, and reacountings of my life. Come on I'm pretty sure I'm too young to have this many but, it has pulled me into poetry so it works for me.
Rated: Fiction K - English - Poetry - Words: 212 - Reviews: 6 - Favs: 1 - Published: 02-23-13 - Status: Complete - id: 3103455
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You call me a bookworm and say I missed out on my childhood
You call me "over-innocent." and "uptight."
Yes, in study hall I sit in the library and bury myself in other worlds.
Yes, I may seem to be in my own little world
But, have you ever stopped to think, "Why?"
You call me odd but I laugh because it describes me perfectly
You say I'm addicted to reading which just might be true.
But, when comes between word on a page that are steadfast and can never change
And the lies people so often speak
Which do I choose?
The words, the steadfast words.
You call me bookworm,
Which I am just as you can see
But it isn't without a reason
I just don't wish to be lied to or decived
So a bookworm is what I shall be
And anyone who has met me can see
A bookworm is who I am and all I shall be
A/N: I was talking to a group of kids in my Agriscience class and we got on the topic of fashion, t.v., and anti-schoolism{not liking school.} It got me thinking how many times I've had people mention my reading habits and how it has affected me each time. Please review.
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